


Drugged and Dominated

by GwendolynD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: spn_hardcore, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:59:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynD/pseuds/GwendolynD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Prompt) Sam and Dean get kidnapped by some guys who make money with rape videos. They wake up in some sort of factory building and the men tell Sam that he has to fuck Dean while they film it all. Sam refuses.</p><p>After that they drug Sam with some kind of testosterone cocktail and he gets all possessive and wants to fuck Dean into submission. All his ethical values are gone and his animalistic side comes out.</p><p>When the men are gone the drugs wear off and Sam finds Dean beaten and bleeding on the floor next to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drugged and Dominated

~~~~~~~~  
  
“Jesus fuck! No!” Sam shouted, eyes wide and his struggle against the ropes biting into his wrists resumed.   
  
It had only been six or seven hours ago that he and Dean had been happily cruising back to the motel for a good shower after taking out a Djinn in Wisconsin. Now they were in a dark factory—from the looks of it—roped surprisingly securely to chairs on opposite ends of the room from each other. Four bulky men stood around the shelter, one near the video camera. The camera’s intent had just been revealed, as for the reason they were there. And no. No way in Hell was Sam going to listen.   
  
“It really wasn’t a question, String-bean. We’re going to untie you, and you’re going to fuck Mr. Big Mouth silent.”  
  
Sam didn’t dare look at Dean. His mind was reeling so much that he didn’t need the additional strain of Dean’s expressions. Dean _had_ to know he would never do that. Had to—right? Sam wasn’t sure if he could survive if he looked over and saw Dean believing that Sam would do such a thing. He was sure Dean didn’t think so—but this was one chance he wasn’t willing to take.   
  
“You sick fucks!” The chair rocked with the determination to pull his arms free of the ropes so he could properly strangle the men in the room. “No…don’t…NO!” Sam twisted his head back and to the side as one of the men stepped forward, a gag identical to Dean’s stretched between his hands. Without much room to swing his head, the thick fabric invaded his mouth quickly and yanked at his hair as it was secured behind his head.   
  
A sharp twist in the chair at the right time gave Sam the small satisfaction of driving his shoulder into the other man’s shoulder. The man cursed and the satisfaction was gone when a fist plowed across his jaw, snapping Sam’s head to the right with a burst of pain.   
  
Blinking, Sam did his best to stretch his jaw out with the gag in place, forcing his eyes to refocus after the attack. They focused on Dean. The pierce of the green gaze hit Sam strong, and he knew he never should have doubted Dean’s knowledge of Sam’s loyalty. There was no fear of him in his older brother’s eyes, only concern and the overlying anger that anyone dared to hurt Sam.   
  
Sam was in the middle of scanning the room for any weapons to aid in their escape—and they sure as hell were getting out of here—when one man stepped forward, a needle held up for Sam to see. Barely able to cock his head in confusion, the other three men jumped to pin down his arms and yank his head backwards so that his throat was exposed and screaming at the unnatural angle it was held at.   
  
Dean’s muffled yells and protests were easily drowned in Sam’s own struggles to toss the men off him and keep that needle away from him. The pinch of it piercing skin had Sam fighting to double his efforts to toss the extra restraints away—to deliver some sort of damage to them—but before he had a chance to connect with anything they were gone and to Sam’s surprise so were the ropes.   
  
The strain to pull his head [back up](http://gwendolynd.livejournal.com/40728.html) took some effort from the pain shooting through his nerves, but his years of hunting kicked in and he tossed the pain onto the backburner and was quickly on his feet, tearing the gag from his head and his jaw set in fury as he locked onto the closest of the men. Pulling his arm back as he rushed him, Sam readied to knock the sonovabitch to the ground when the world took a sharp turn and came rushing up to meet him.   
  
Laughter rung in his ears, echoing as Sam blinked, trying to erase the duplicates he was seeing and the fog that was settling in when Dean was suddenly at the edge of the fog, pulling Sam onto his lap and shouting vile words at something out of sight. Sam thought he could hear, or at least see, Dean calling his name, but everything was overwhelming and all Sam could do was clench his eyes shut to help himself sort out what was happening.   
  
“Sammy?! C’mon Sam, stay with me.”  
  
Words, he could understand the words. What was that sting on his cheek? Was Dean slapping his face?  
  
Sam jerked his head away from the anticipated fourth smack with a grunt.   
  
“Well, then open your eyes!”  
  
Sam tentatively opened his eyes, ready to snap them closed if the world decided to dance around again, but it didn’t. He opened his eyes completely and could see Dean’s head hovering above him, his hands on Sam’s shoulders, and the flickering lights in the distant from the old wiring in the factory.   
  
“We gotta find a way outta here—get up,” Dean demanded, and Sam found himself incredibly irritated by this. Why the fuck did Dean always get to give the orders? Did he not trust Sam to do a task properly, or what exactly was his deal? Nevertheless, Sam pulled himself to a sitting position with the help of Dean’s hands on his shoulders. “That’s it, c’mon Sammy.”  
  
Sam shoved himself to his feet, turning to toss Dean’s hands off of him. “It’s _Sam_. I’ve told you that over,” Sam spat at Dean, “and over.”   
  
Dean looked taken aback, but he said nothing. Instead his eyes trailed quickly up and down Sam, as if doing a quick evaluation, and that didn’t sit well with Sam either.   
  
“The fuck, Dean? You think I’m just one of those people you can order around and they’ll do whatever you want because you bat those pretty eyes of yours at them?” came the snarl, Sam’s steps carrying him right into Dean’s personal bubble. It was then that Dean’s eyes changed from concern to fear as he stepped back, and the shade of green was much more pleasant, Sam thought. “Always ordering me around, needing to be in charge of everything. Never stop to think that maybe baby brother wants some control.”  
  
“Samm—Sam, no. C’mon, just, ease off. We’ll get out of here and then we’ll talk, okay?”   
  
Sam saw the slow bob of Dean’s adam’s apple as he swallowed down his fear, and the nervous glance to the camcorder in the corner gave Sam the opportunity to shove Dean against the wall, holding his shoulders against the brick. “No. No more telling me what to do.” He curled his fingers against the fabric of Dean’s over shirt, keeping him pined firmly to the wall.  
  
Dean’s hands came up to push at Sam’s chest and pull at his grip. His face was set in his determined grimace, the one Sam knew all too well as the look Dean got when he felt trapped and wanted nothing more than to kick something’s ass. “Jesus Sam, you’re hurting me!”  
  
The pleasure that snaked down his spine at those words only fed Sam’s determination. “What is it, _bro?_ Afraid that you’ve lost your authority over me? Afraid I just might decide to give those fucks just what they want?” sneered Sam, and even as he said it, he found himself tuning in to just how much he enjoyed seeing Dean’s muscles working as he fought against him. Suddenly it didn’t seem like such a bad idea to show Dean that Sam could handle any situation just fine.   
  
With a huff of a laugh, Sam grabbed Dean’s left arm and hauled him off the wall and flung him to the floor. Dean scrambled to his feet, quickly stancing himself for a fight, and somehow Sam still didn’t feel threatened. He’d always backed Dean, he knew his moves and knew the number of times it had come down to _Sam_ to finish a hunt. No, Sam wasn’t concerned; in fact maybe it would teach Dean a lesson.   
  
“Don’t do this Sam, I’m warning you…” Dean’s voice didn’t sound quite as sure as the words indicated it should have been.   
  
Tilting his head in amusement, Sam stepped forward and easily blocked a punch with his forearm, before swinging a blow of his own aimed at Dean’s gut. Dean deflected the move and swung around to shove the heel of his palm into the centre of Sam’s back.  
  
It wasn’t until after ten minutes of full on hand to hand combat that Sam was able to cross block Dean’s right hook and twist his arm around behind his back and shove him to his knees on the cement floor. Both of them were breathing heavily, both were bleeding from split lips and both had a variety of other wounds from the fight. Sam had the imprint of Dean’s ring on his forearm, bruises up and down his shoulders and an incredibly sore jaw due to Dean’s uncanny ability to take advantage of the seconds Sam left his face unguarded. Dean on the other hand, had a cut across his forehead from the beam Sam had spun him into, an already swollen right eye with the bruises to accompany it and various other small wounds because Sam had no problem fighting dirty and using anything he had been able to get his hands on to get Dean to back down.   
  
“You never could make anything easy, could you?” snarled Sam, leaning down to get right beside Dean’s ear. “Or ever lose control. Buck up, you’re about to learn.”  
  
Dean’s attempt to twist out of Sam’s grip only prompted Sam to shove him right to the floor and dig his knee square in the middle of his back to pin him down. Sam was done with playing around, and there was only one thing he could think of to drive the lesson home, so to speak. He grasped a hold of Dean’s jeans and in a fierce yank he managed to pull them free of his brother’s hips. Dean’s curses fell on deaf ears and his struggles were useless when Sam’s knee was driving his spine into the ground.   
  
“You _will_ learn to back off.” Tangling one hand in Dean’s gelled hair and holding on tightly, Sam licked his fingers quickly before ruthlessly shoving two digits into Dean’s ass, his own cock hardening at the cry that it tore from Dean’s throat and the ring of muscle spasming around his fingers. Dean clawed at Sam’s hand holding his head in attempts to pry Sam off of him in one way or another, and Sam found it incredibly distracting from his task at hand so he simply pulled Dean’s head barely off the floor and shoved it back down just enough to make him compliant.  
  
Dean’s struggles stopped as he groaned, and Sam decided to take advantage of his brother’s momentary submission to make quick work of his own jeans, shoving them down over his own hips. Curling one hand around Dean’s waist to hoist his ass up, Sam wasted no time in spitting on his other hand, smearing the saliva onto Dean’s opening before burying himself inside with a shudder of pleasure. The yell of pain from Dean only managed to push Sam to start thrusting roughly only with intent to hear that strangled cry again and again.   
  
Each struggle, yell or curse that came from Dean succeeded in only encouraging Sam. If Dean was protesting, clearly he hadn’t learned to give up control yet, and Sam was determined to show his brother that he was fully capable of controlling a situation to completion. The pleasure shooting up his cock and through his body was making Sam moan shamelessly, and it seemed that the dry shuddering friction was slowly being replaced with a smoother, slicker glide in and out of Dean’s ass.  
  
Maybe it was the wave of pleasure threatening to drown him, or Dean had finally decided to submit, but one way or another, Sam no longer heard the shouts from his brother. He could feel his balls tightening, and Sam wanted the blinding sparks of pressure from the ring of muscles clenching again, so he reached around with one hand and pulled at Dean’s cock, mercilessly bribing it to attention. Pounding into Dean, and pumping his cock furiously, it was only a matter of time before Sam’s head dropped to press against Dean’s back, the fabric hot on his forehead as he cried out, the orgasm fiercely washing over him.  
  
When the pleasure rolled to a minimum, Sam released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in a rush, letting go of his grip on Dean’s cock and pulling himself free of his ass. A brief waft of nausea hit Sam as he saw the blood specked on his own cock and realized it was seeping free from Dean’s tight ring of muscles. Sam closed his eyes and shook his head slightly, falling to the side to sit on the cement, a hand to his forehead. A soft thud indicated that Dean had collapsed to the ground, but Sam felt too smug to care. That would show him, right?   
  
Tucking himself away, Sam stood slowly, staggering to the nearest table as things felt like they were starting to spin. He grasped the table, closing his eyes, not noticing the blinking red light from the camera in the corner, or the four men in the shadows behind it.   
  
Trying to open his eyes again, Sam found the world blurry and spinning once again. “Shit…” he mumbled before he lost consciousness and he collapsed to the ground, hitting the table with his head on the way to the floor.   
  
~~~~~~  
  
“Cas…p…please…” Dean whispered, throat scratchy and voice cracking. He refused to admit to the tears that were streaming down his face, wanted nothing more than to rip his memory clean free from his head.  
  
“You do not look good.”   
  
Just knowing that Cas was there, made the panic in his chest subside. Sam wouldn’t—couldn’t with Cas here. The energy was drained from Dean, his spirit broken. He’d failed Sammy. Sometime between trying to save Sam from the world and from Sam’s own self, Dean had forgotten to make sure Sam was safe from _Dean_. He’d been so busy protecting Sam that he’d never thought that he was actually hurting Sam by not letting him have control—he just thought it would be easier for Sam after everything he’d been through.   
  
Now, now he’d failed his baby brother and was lying on the floor broken and half conscious to prove it.   
  
“I will take you to Bobby’s immediately. Just let me get S—“  
  
“No.” He wasn’t sure what made him say it—he’d never left Sammy behind before--but it had fallen from his lips without him thinking it. The suddenly panicked breathing and the shakes were enough to prove to himself that he’d meant it. He’d failed Sammy, but Sam had also betrayed him. They were more than twenty yards from each other, and still Dean felt too close. “No,” he repeated, “Come back for him…later.”  
  
Cas’ face leaked his concern, as he glanced between the two brothers, but Cas nodded silently, knelt beside Dean and touched his forehead with two fingers outreached.

  
~~~~~~~~


End file.
